I Never Told You That I Love You
by CBeta
Summary: ONESHOT! Character Death, PostWar, Post HBP. Draco remembers Harry, and he remembers life after Harry's death vividly. How can he possibly go on without his hope? Rated M for language.


I Never Told You That I Love You

_XXX_

_**Draco remembers Harry, and he remembers life after death vividly. How can he possibly go on without his hope?**_

_XXX_

You always had been passionate. Your eyes burned with the passion that your entire being was too small to hold in, too full of it to soak in any more. Of course you would go down in a blaze of glory. The fire in your eyes turned to the fire that consumed you on the outside, a fire that ate you alive, and you burned in it.

Your ashes aren't even left, now. I go back to the place where you died daily, and they're building something else where your house once stood. It should be a memorial for you. It's not.

We were never friends in school; I believe that the only reason for this was because of the separate ways we were brought up. Or, rather, the way that I was brought up. Who can honestly say that you were taken care of by those muggles who chose to call you nephew (grudgingly)?

The war brought us closer together than we could have ever wanted to be. I think it was somewhere in fourth year, when you were in the Tri-Wizard tournament, that I realized that this wasn't a game; that peoples' lives were on the line.

Voldemort, raving lunatic that he was, has to be given some credibility. He made you bring yourself down. Rather, you brought him down, at the expense of your own life. I truthfully cannot find one wizard alive that can really believe you're gone. I think everyone keeps hoping that you'll come back one day, even though it's been nearly two years since.

Harry, who was there with you when you died, besides Voldemort - yes, I can actually say his name now. No longer is it You-Know-Who, not for anyone. So your death hasn't been in vain. No longer is the Wizarding community afraid of a name. Hopefully, no one ever will be again. But that's all it is; a hope. And like a dream, hopes never come true.

I gave up my own hope ages ago. I think I'd given it up before we even became close. And I wonder what could have been. Every fucking day I wonder. What if I hadn't been such a prick when I was younger? What if you had accepted my hand that first day at Hogwarts?

Sometimes I find myself remembering something that never really happened. Like you accepting my friendship; you being sorted into Slytherin, instead of Gryffindor. I know that the sorting hat thought about it. But in the end, Slytherin never would have been the right choice for you; there was too much going against you, even at such a young age.

From the day I was born, I was taught to hate you. My hate has turned to something else, now. And sometimes, I find myself missing you. And I wonder exactly why I miss you. It never could have been; it never should have been. But somehow, you just made it work. You were like that, you know?

It makes me angry that you had to die the way you did. A simple accident; you lived through school, and through so many other challenges and tasks, and yet you died because of something so trivial.

If you weren't such a Gryffindor, would you still be alive today? Voldemort set it up that way, though. He knew all about your 'noble of heart' bull shit. To him, your bravery was nothing but a flaw. To me…I'm not even sure what it was to me anymore. I'm not really _sure _of anything anymore.

I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish by doing this. Writing to someone who's dead just isn't ethical. There's no reason.

Do you know how many people thought that you would come back as a ghost? You were so young, Harry, far too young to die. But you never were bound down by anything or anyone. Rules never really suited you. So why would you choose to be bound to earth for the rest of eternity when you could be free?

But sometimes, when I'm alone, I can glance out of the corner of my eye, and I see you there. Whenever I try to really focus on you, though, you fade away. Do you do it on purpose? Is it because you don't want me to hurt?

Well, I can tell you something else, now, then, and it'll save you a lot of trouble in the long run. I can't feel, not anymore. I can talk about the emotions, but I never really feel them. I haven't felt them since the night that you died.

At first, there was anger, then pain, but eventually, the numbness came. I sometimes wonder how it affected your other friends; they mostly keep to themselves, nowadays.

I'm sure we all know that you would have wanted us to get over you eventually. And I know that is will sound awfully cliché, but you touched so many lives during your short existence. No one in the Wizarding world is completely over you, not yet at least.

Oh, sure, eventually, they'll forget. But not now. Not yet.

Sometimes, I can tell that people are moving on. They do simple things, things that we could never do in the midst of the war, because they know that, at least for now, they're safe. We never had that luxury. And you, you especially never had that luxury. You never knew if you would live to see the next day; from the day you were born, you were in danger, even if you didn't know it then.

And so I won't let them forget, not as long as I'm still alive.

You wouldn't believe how many of the Death Eaters finally 'saw the light' after you were killed. It took a few hours for it to take effect, but the spell you put on Voldemort finally worked, and in the meanwhile, Voldemort had to stand by, helplessly, as he saw his faithful followers finally…loose their faith in him. I'm sure that in the end, that was probably what killed him the most, but I like to believe that it was all your doing. And in most ways, it was.

Because of the way that everyone idolized you while you were still alive, even when you were just a babe, one would think that you would be in all of the textbooks; that you would be completely worshiped. But you aren't. None of the textbooks have been updated, and since Dumbledore's death in sixth year, the Wizarding world is still in shambles. It will take quite a while to rebuild what Voldemort and the war destroyed.

So I sometimes wonder if you'll be taught about in any classes at Hogwarts. Did you know that Hogwarts was the very first place to open up after the war ended? It opened even before the Ministry did. Students go there now, and I wonder if there's a pair as we were. I wish I could tell them now that all the fighting isn't worth it in the long run. But I'm sure that no one would ever believe me.

I can't possibly imagine life now. I don't think I ever will be able to again. It's true what they say, you know. You never know what you have until it's gone. And I want you back so badly, but I know that it'll never happen, and I wonder how I'll ever possibly be able to go on without you.

But I do, somehow. Every day I put one foot in front of the other, and I take the steps required to live my life; the life that I no longer wish to live. The life that I gave up on long before you left the picture. You gave me hope. And without you, my hope, like my dreams, have withered away.

We were so much more than friends, Harry, even though I pushed you away and pretended that I didn't want it. I was still hurt about you not being my friend earlier in life, and I thought that we would have forever to sort through everything. But it all happened so fast, and how I came to rely on you, I'll never know. How I came to trust you is an even bigger mystery in and of itself. I'm sure that both are mysteries that will never be solved.

Damn you! How could you leave me! We were supposed to have forever, forever to tell each other how we felt about one another! God damn it! You told me all the time that you loved me, and I pushed you away! I never once got to tell you just exactly how much I loved you back. I still do, to this very day, and it cuts me to the bone to know that you'll never know it. That you never _did _know it.

Harry Potter…I, Draco Malfoy, love you. And I always will.

**XXX**

**A/N: **I normally don't do One-shots, and I normally don't read them, but in this case, I was hit by a random wave of creativity that I didn't want to drown in, so I typed this fic up at 2:30 in the morning. Please excuse it if it doesn't make sense, but since it's something that I didn't spend much time on and I have very important matters that REALLY need to be handled first, I can't guarantee that I can come back later and make it make sense for you. I'm sorry! But please tell me what you think; I hated to have to kill Harry, but my muse threatened to go away if I didn't! _-Cowers in fear of muse-_


End file.
